The Sadist and the Masochist
by Armygirl0604
Summary: Drake is a Sadist. Camry is a Masochist. Drake vents his inner anger. Camry's just in it for the sex. But they forgot the rule: If you let the fire burn too brightly, someone is always bound to get burned in the process of feeding those flames. I do not own Gone. All rights go to Michael Grant.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! Sorry, I know. What you really wanna see is Puzzle Pieces. Well, I just found my external hard drive (FINALLY!) so we should have updates within a week or two. This originated from a conversation with my boyfriend (no, it wasn't X rated, it was about John Tucker Must Die. :P**

**Anyways, who's ready for some shameless smut? CUZ I KNOW I AM! :D :D :D**

**Lol. Kidding. Mostly.\**

**Not really.**

With a tired moan, Camry sat up and half-crawled, half-stumbled to the alarm clock on the bookshelf at the end of the bed. She hit the off button with deft accuracy and backed up, scooting back into her spot in bed.

A hand struck her face. "Get up."

She opened her eyes and smiled, stretching. "Good morning." It was as if she was completely oblivious to the mark on her cheek.

Drake glared down at her. "I said Get. Up."

"Up for school or the fun kind of up?" Camry asked, yawning and pushing herself into a mostly upright position.

"The school kind of up. Oh, and dress sexy today." With a final smirk, Drake slid fully out of bed, pulled on his boxers, and walked out of her room, slamming the door loud enough to make her flinch on his way out.

Camry groaned again, but stumbled to her closet and rifled through her meager amount of clothes. She'd come to Coates with nothing but two pairs of ripped up thrift store jeans and five baggy t-shirts that were hand-me-downs from her last boyfriend, Trevor. Everything in the closet now had appeared one day when the clothes she'd brought "mysteriously" disappeared into the kitchen's incinerator. "It's odd," Camry had said. "I swear to you that the clothes in my closet look _just like_ the ones you were fawning over wanting to dress me in from that Vicky's catalogue I saw the other day.

Diana shrugged innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about." She shoved her lollipop back into her mouth, looking for all the world a complete angel, all while sliding her tongue up and down the candy in a perfect mime; "accidentally" making Caine rock hard behind his desk.

The high school level students at Coates were allowed the "very special privilege" of wearing their own clothes on Fridays as well as weekends. As seniors, they would be given Mondays and Wednesdays as well. But alas, Camry was not a senior, so she picked out a lacy blue top and tight dress pants that hugged her hips. "If you squint," Diana had said. "You might even look like you have an ass. Except for the fact that you don't." She smiled sweetly.

_I'll take her indirect bitchy kindness over the hellion she is to most people any day,_ Camry told herself, shivering at the memories of Diana's "almost" niceties.

Camry was lucky to be where she was, she knew. She was lucky that she had any status at all. It was Drake that made that happen. It was Drake that made her into a _somebody._ To most people, she was a nobody. She'd always been a nobody. Until now.

_Don't forget,_ she told herself. _Odysseus called himself Nobody to Polyphemus and he became a tragic hero known for generations to come._ Then she smacked herself on the forehead. _And this is why you're invisible._

She was definitely lucky to have Drake.

Five minutes later, just as she was finishing the last touches on her makeup and hair, Drake unlocked her door with the spare key he'd made one day. "You're ready, right?"

She stepped out of her bathroom. "Of course."

"Well?" he demanded. "Then let's fucking GO!"

She grabbed her bag and followed him without another word. They made it halfway to breakfast before Drake grabbed her arm violently. "Why the hell aren't you wearing the necklace?"

"Wh-what?" she sputtered.

"The necklace. Why aren't you wearing it?"

She reached into her shirt and pulled it out, adjusting it. "The shirt just comes too high is all. I'm wearing it, Drake," she said evenly, just to antagonize him further.

It worked. Drake slammed her against a wall and mashed his lips against hers. Their teeth clacked and she happily kissed him back. She felt the hardness of his chest against hers and moaned. He pulled away abruptly, smirking. She pouted. "Tease."

He barked a sharp laugh and smacked her on the rear end. "Someone here has to be. Since you can't even manage to dress yourself properly. This? This is not sexy. This is visit to grandma's house."

"Grandma was a wolf, if you remember," Camry countered.

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

The dining hall was already nearly full when they arrived, two make-out sessions later. Bruises were forming on Camry's upper arms, hidden beneath her sleeves, and a butterfly Band-Aid was keeping a small knife slit closed on her lower back.

Diana smirked as she saw them coming. "Well _hello there._ Good morning Manwhore. Mrs. Slut. How was your fuck last night? Did you rut like rabbits? You must have, because the whole dorm hall heard you."

Drake smirked proudly, raking his hungry eyes over Camry's body. "We had a great time. Not that a prude like you would understand, Diana. It's okay. I'm sure Caine will deflower you eventually. Or…not." His smirk lowered into a shark's grin at her disgusted face.

Camry quietly turned the page in her book.

It had been less than 30 seconds since the last bell rang and Camry was already pinned against a wall. She was rounding the corner, having just been dismissed from her biology class, when she was dragged out of the hall and into a janitorial closet. She kissed Drake back hungrily, working her way down to his jaw as he bit her ear roughly. "You couldn't wait," she gasped, "for a classroom to empty out? It's been a while since we-Ah!" She cried out as he pinched her nipple beneath her bra. "-did it on a desk."

"Did what?" Drake growled. "Say the damn word, you fucking prude."

"Fucked, since we fucked on a damn desk!" Camry cried, glad for the generator behind them making enough noise to cover their voices.

"Oh you liked that, did you?" Drake opened the button on her pants, yanking them down roughly. "Which was your favorite?"

Camry moaned, wishing he'd shut up but knowing he wouldn't, just because it tortured her. "Mrs. Wiltshire's desk."

He pulled back, surprised. "The English teacher? Seriously?"

She blinked innocently. "Drake, think about it. I like books. I like words. We did it on the desk of a despicable woman who knows _nothing_ about words and couldn't form a _legitimate_ sentence if her _life depended on it._"

He shrugged. "So hating the teach makes it better? Really?"

"Uhn, yes, could you please just fuck me already?"

He slapped her. "Don't be impatient." Then he shoved her to her knees and tapped her cheeks. "Open."

She opened her mouth obediently and he shoved his cock in. She gagged slightly, but managed to refrain from pushing him out. She was used to the discomfort, really. "Swallow when I come," he reminded her. As if she needed telling.

Unexpectedly, he stopped before he came and pulled her back up to a standing position. "Turn," he ordered. She turned around and he shoved into her, making her cry out in a mixture of pain and ecstasy. Then she settled into silence, only gasping occasionally. He stopped. "You don't seem to be enjoying yourself."

She glanced over her shoulder. "Drake…I need…" she whispered, her eyes hazy.

Drake snorted. How could he forget? "Let's get another letter in, yeah?"

Her eyes widened. "Here?"

"What? Afraid of infection? You crazy little bitch. Have you seen where this knife has been? And you're afraid of a _closet?_ How pathetic. Might get Aids and you're worried about the _floor._" That was a lie. He reserved this knife for her and her alone. No one else's blood touched his _special_ knife.

She moaned and arched her back for him. Gleefully, he began to carve into her skin, thrusting hard against her. She cried out in pain and then gasped and shuddered, moaning. He'd just finished the center line of the A he was carving when she came. He grabbed her under the arms as her legs gave out and she rode out the orgasm. He came quickly and quietly, without any cries or shaking limbs. He was well practiced in not damaging his favorite toy.

Only toy, really, as he had often mused. She was special. Others might have satisfied him briefly, but once he'd found _Camry_…no one else was as satisfying anymore.

_It must be the __**willingness**_**, **he'd frequently thought. _The utter desire to please me. The enjoyment she gets from it. She's a…kindred spirit, in a sense._

He pulled out of her and, in a brief moment of what might have been compassion with anyone else, but was most definitely logic in the case of Drake Merwin, handed her a roll of paper towels that was on the shelf to his left. She wiped the inside of her legs and placed a wad of folded paper towel in her underwear to avoid dripping until she could shower.

As she cleaned herself up, she admired how stealthy Drake could be. Already he was rolling the condom (she wondered when he'd even put one on) into her wad of paper towel and spraying it with cleaning solvent. He tossed it in one of the trash bins and notched his belt tighter. "Ready to go?"

She smiled and nodded. "Definitely. I'm starving." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as they exited the closet. "I'm thinking sandwiches."

She wasn't sure, but he might have almost smiled.

**So this might be a little twisted, but here's my playlist I was listening to (in order.)**

**Whispers in the Dark-Skillet**

**Driftin'-Dirty Heads**

**Scar Tissue- RHCP**

**The Ballad of Mona Lisa-Panic! At the Disco**

**Epic-Faith No More**

**Never Said It-Papa Roach**

**Lovely, right?**

**Anyways, you know the drill. Review if you want. Don't if you don't want to. I don't really care. I'll know if you read this from the story stats on my account.**

**Ciao!**


	2. Chapter 2

**So I hope no one was disturbed too much from the first chapter. And I'd like to make a shout-out to Atchair, because I am shamelessly plugging your ideas from A SADISTIC DRAKE MERWIN LOVE STORY. It's hilarious and I adore it. Cheers! **

**xoxoxoxo-Armygirl**

Drake lounged casually on his bed in the cramped room he shared with Caine Soren. It was like all the others: two beds, a bookshelf, two dressers, and two closets the size of a guitar case. A bathroom hung off to one side, with a simple shower, sink, and toilet. The girls' rooms were usually a bit nicer, as they tended to:

a) Take care of their furniture

and b) decorate.

A textbook rested off to the side, the blood red pen he'd been scrawling in it with abandoned somewhere under the bed. Drake absently played with a pocket knife he'd lifted off the janitor the week before, bored. And because he was bored, thoughts about hurting people came into his head. He'd had this great idea, the other day. About hot-gluing needles from the Home Ec. Classes to Nerf darts and shooting them out of his window. And then there was the cool video he'd seen on YouTube. The one where the girl explained how to castrate someone with a rusty spoon and a rubber band…

" Hey Drake," Caine said, without so much as bothering to glance at his self-proclaimed roommate. "Did you know your girlfriend's got Tampering with Hospital Equipment on her record?" Once, Caine had had another roommate. A quiet kid with a long name he'd inherited from a very dead, very old relative. He'd been easy to manipulate. Until Drake had scared him off and moved in.

"She's not my girlfriend," Drake told him, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "And where did you even get her file?"

"I walked in and took it. The secretary was getting coffee."

"It was that easy?"

"Yep. They don't even have security cameras."

"Hm." Drake grinned as he thought of what he could do if he got hold of Diana's file. Grinned wider as he pictured it in his head.

"Just out of curiosity," Caine started after a few moments of silence. "If she's not your girlfriend, what _is_ Camry Ellens?"

"A damn good fuck," Drake answered. He glanced at the file briefly and returned to his side of the room. "Give it to me when you're done."

"Why else would I have it?" Caine asked, not looking up.

"You're a selfish, controlling, sociopathic bastard. Why wouldn't you snag a file on someone your roommate was fucking on a regular basis?"

"Is that all she is, Drake? A good lay?"

"No. She's a _great_ lay," Drake elaborated.

Caine made a small sound of distaste, most likely at the idea of Drake Merwin _laying_ anyone. Drake settled back on his bed, dreaming up new things to do to Camry in the bedroom. Or class room. Or teen romance section of the library. (It would be disrespectful to her precious dead authors to do it in the classics, which were actually in a safe corner. She preferred the danger of the teen section because she said the literature there was all hyped up incompetent erotica-in-training anyways.)

Camry wasn't beautiful. Hell, she wasn't even that pretty. She wasn't curvy-her hips were hardly there even if she wore a tight shirt two sizes too small. She could still comfortably wear a training bra. Her legs, though long and athletic because she walked everywhere (though who didn't at their school?) were always hidden in jeans. Her knees were knobby. She couldn't fight. She couldn't sing. She had no Powers. She was…average.

The only mildly attractive thing about her was her eyes. Granted, they were usually hidden behind her mouse-brown bangs, but when she pulled back her hair, they were, to say in the least, impressive. She had startlingly green eyes, not unlike the color of the grass in a meadow.

Of course, all of this could be made up for by the fact that she was a damn good kisser.

Drake swung his legs over the side of his bed. "You know what's weird?" Caine said. "She never even complained when you torched her stuff and replaced it…do you enjoy dressing her up like a fucktoy, Drake?"

Drake shrugged. "Don't think she knew it was me." He thought about the second part. "And yeah. Yeah I do."

"She didn't even seem upset, though."

"Maybe she doesn't care." _Or maybe she did, but cares too much about getting fucked for it to matter, _Drake thought silently. He knew. He knew that Camry was in it for the sex and nothing else. He simply didn't _care_ that she was only in it for the sex and _maybe_ for the fact that she had people (crazy and sadistic as they were) to talk to for what might have been the first time since kindergarten.

_Only she didn't go to kindergarten,_ Drake reminded himself. Only a week before, she'd admitted that while her birth mother (a prostitute-oh the irony) was out working (oh and she'd said that word so casually too) Camry had been left with an old woman from the apartment next door. She'd never been enrolled in school. The government hadn't even known she existed until midway through what should've been first grade.

Not that Drake cared. He only let her tell him in case there was something in it that he could use later on. If nothing else, he'd learned from Caine that gathering information could prove valuable in the long run.

"Honestly," Caine continued, despite the fact that there had been several moments of silence, which would have signified to anyone else that the conversation was over. "You might want to consider keeping her around for more than sex. She could be useful one day."

"Useful _how_? She already does what I want."

"But she doesn't _love_ you."

Drake made a face. "Why the hell would I want that? I don't need some whiny little bitch chasing after me going 'No, Drake! Don't hurt that kitten, it's wrong!' and trying to change me. Girls are bitches, and bitches are annoying."

Caine rolled his, staring at the ceiling. Drake made an obvious point of looking up, an expression of wonder on his face. "Trust me, Drake. She could prove very, very useful to you if you'd only show her a little affection. Besides, one day she might be hot. You'll want to keep that in mind, in case she finds someone who treats her better."

"She won't," Drake said. Caine asked for no explanation. He didn't know the exact nature of Drake's relations with Camry, but he'd never asked, either. Drake figured he probably thought Drake was forcing Camry into it. What he didn't know was that_ she_ had actually approached _Drake._

_Six months ago…_

_He'd just been beating the crap out of some third grader, minding his own business, when he heard the sound of footsteps. He whipped around, ready to scare off some unwanted observer. What he'd found was a girl about his own age with short, mousy hair and wide green eyes. "Please," she whispered. "I just want to watch."_

_ Figuring she was some sort of freak, but not really caring, Drake turned back to his prey, cutting into him with a rusty nail he'd found on the ground the day before. When he'd finished with the sobbing kid, Drake turned to find the girl sitting on the ground, hugging her knees and watching openly. He'd thought about hurting her, too, but she creeped him out, so he just left._

_ After that day, he kept seeing her everywhere. Any time he tried to hurt someone, she appeared. Sometimes observing from afar, others she'd get closer. Each time she did, she whispered, "Please keep going. I just want to watch."_

_ After two weeks of that, of him seeing her countless times, she approached him once more. The girl (whose name he still didn't know after half a month of her observing him) stayed quiet while he tortured some faceless fifth grader. When the boy stumbled away whimpering, Drake stood. No sooner had he gotten to his feet that the girl was plastered to his body, her lips working furiously against his. He pushed her back and stared at her for a minute._

_ That was when he finally saw it, when his hunters' eyes picked up on the expression in hers. It was that glint of a hurt animal, of one so sick or crazy that it _wanted _to be prey. As soon as he saw that, he'd firmly locked his lips with hers again, pulling her down onto the basement floor._

_ "Camry," she'd panted, among the boxes of toilet paper and the dusty shelves. "I'm Camry."_

_ His answer at the time was to bite her, and her harsh cry sent him over the edge far too soon for his tastes. At the end, he finally said. "Drake." _

_ She rolled over on her side and looked at him. "I know…we should do this again, sometime."_

_ He nodded and stood, his clothes on faster than she'd thought possible. "My room, ten o'clock tomorrow night," he'd said. Then he'd been gone, melding into the darkness like he'd never been there._

_ Camry shook her head, smiling. "And finally," she murmured, "the story begins. Once upon a time, there was a beautifully sadistic boy named Drake and a smart, masochistic girl named Camry…and we'll see where it goes from there. We'll just have to see."_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three! Couldn't find the docs on the hard drive, but the hunt will continue, I swear!**

**I don't own Gone, but in about three days I'll have my own copy of Fear. Woot woot!**

Camry sighed contentedly as she admired her back in the mirror. There were the usual nicks and bruises, sure, but those were practically (but not quite) meaningless in comparison to the beauty that was her right shoulder blade.

_PROPERTY OF DRA_ was what it said so far. She loved those letters. They made her happy. They made her feel special.

Not that Drake thought of her as special, but what did she care? He fucked her and he carved pretty things into her skin. Besides, who cared? She already knew she was worthless. She might as well be of some use to somebody, at least for a little while.

Camry giggled, thinking about it. No one in her school had ever liked her, and in the first weeks after dating Drake, she'd felt like she had a scarlet letter taped to her chest. (Not that it had been taped to her chest-no, Hester's letter was not attached to her breast with office supplies) Plus, it wasn't an affair. She wasn't even ashamed. No, she was proud. Proud that not only had she made the first move, but that he'd responded so fully and let her be his new toy.

She was amazed with the way he treated her, to be honest. She'd expected the original delight of having a new toy (and henceforth treating it carefully) and then for him to grow tired of her and try to break her. But he hadn't. He was…well, not gentle, but careful, at least. Camry delighted in the idea that he intended to keep her for a prolonged period of time.

Satisfied with her back, she finished drying off and went to her closet to look for her pajamas. A pair of long flannel pants and a t-shirt sufficed as her sleepwear, though inside she hoped she wouldn't need it. But she knew she would. Drake never came to her the same day he'd cut another letter. He gave it a day to scab over, always.

With a night of nothingness ahead of her, Camry simply closed her eyes and went to sleep.

An alarm woke her in the morning instead of a shouting Drake. She frowned. That was disappointing. Normally he'd at least come to shout at her. _He probably slept in_, Camry thought. She got dressed and headed for his room.

Halfway there, Diana hooked her arm around Camry's and dragged her away. "The boys are busy. Come eat breakfast with me."

Camry didn't bother trying to pull away; she just let Diana pull her along in silence. They got their breakfast (a blueberry bagel and orange juice for Camry, a yogurt and single slice of papaya for Diana) and sat at their regular table. "So tell me," Diana said slyly. "Did you two have any fun last night? I noticed your room was awfully quiet. Did Caine let you use theirs?"

"We didn't sleep together last night."

"Aw, trouble in dystopia?" Diana mocked. "That must be rough…or maybe it's the opposite."

"We're fine. We needed a night off." Camry took a bite of her bagel to avoid talked to Diana and studied the other people in the cafeteria. Most mornings it was quiet and bland, with everyone eating one of two meal choices. Weekends were a little different. They put out fresh fruit, bagels, and cereal. Options widened from pancakes or an egg sandwich to include other foods, ones that were more tasteful than the regular food. The room was also a bit cheerier, as it wasn't so early in the morning.

Not that Camry was paying attention to any of that. No, she was just scanning the room for the entrance of her modern day Okonkwo. _Minus the tragic hero part_, Camry thought.

Almost as if her literary comparison had been his cue to enter, Drake swaggered in and slammed his hands down on either side of her. "Hey," he muttered in her ear. "Healed up?"

"Enough," she murmured back.

"I'll see you later then." He went to get his breakfast.

The day passed in a blur. Mostly they sat in Caine's room and plotted, but Caine was always making plans. And since none of the plans ever actually made sense to Camry, she just sat there and read. Mostly, she figured, she was there to keep Drake quiet, as he liked to find little ways to torture her and make her squirm in front of others. His torture of the day had been to lightly dance a pen knife between her thighs but never press down enough to cut.

After dinner, Caine finally released them and Camry made her way to her bedroom. A textbook found its way to her lap and she started reading up on the rise and fall of the Holy Roman Empire, all the while resisting the urge to quote Paul IV.

Her door opened and shut almost quietly. Still, it was just loud enough to make her jump. "I brought coffee," he reported.

"Did you remember little packets of fakeness?" she asked, taking the one he offered her.

He stared at her blankly.

"Sweetener?" she elaborated.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not stupid."

"I know." She stared back at him.

He looked away first, irritated. "Drink your coffee."

She took a sip of the coffee. It was exactly the way she drank it-too sweet to be called coffee, with hardly any milk. She didn't know if she was impressed, or if he'd just accidentally sipped her coffee instead too many times, but she was inclined to go with the latter.

Drake crawled into bed next to her while she studied. For a while he just fiddled with his knives, but one of his hands slowly crept under the blanket and onto her leg. She made a move to set the book aside but he shook his head. "Keep reading," he ordered.

Her eyes kept running over the page as his hand crept higher and higher. Finally, she tossed the book aside and tackled him, pinning him beneath her. He chuckled. "No self control whatsoever," he murmured.

"Shut up," she moaned. And then the only sounds she made were harsh cries of ecstasy, until finally she passed out, exhausted, as Drake quietly picked up his clothes and redressed, ready to creep out of her room. He paused briefly, standing over her bed looking down. He reached out to touch her hair, but recoiled. Shaking his head and vowing to stop listening to Caine, he backed out of the room and made his way down the hall to his own bedroom. Not once did he so much as glance back as he headed away from her door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! I'm back with another round of torture and dirty going-ons for Camry and Drake. I know most of you probably aren't into what THEY are, but if you have any ideas or if you want to see anything in particular, I'd be happy to write it in! Just pop me a review or, if you're too embarrassed for that, a private message. Promise I won't tell or give credit unless you ask for it, so seriously, I'll write in ANYTHING. Ok, that's it. Cheers!**

**Oh and by the way, the song is one that anyone out there who's a Directioner would know. It's "I Want" by One Direction. (3 3 3 Louis T! 3 3 3)**

Sometimes they liked to play games. They were actually doing just that when the 'Poof' happened. It was one of the few classes they shared together-Camry being one of those "loser geniuses" as Drake had once put it. But Camry _sucked_ at science and she _sucked_ at math and she _hated_ history, so they had those classes together. But she was in advanced English, advanced lit. studies, Drama II, and a different Health class.

At the time, they were in math class. It was his favorite time to torture her because it was the one class where they shared a table. In biology she sat across from him. Her lab partner was some dweeb in glasses with scruffy hair. He wasn't very smart and all he did was provide commentary that annoyed his three tablemates. Drake spent a lot of time threatening him into silence. In history, she sat across the room because his last name began with M and hers began with E.

But in math, they had two person tables and sometimes Drake liked to creep his hand along her leg, up her thigh and directly into her panties. And of course, because it was in class, she couldn't make a single sound or do anything about it. Drake's favorite times were when the teacher asked her to answer a question and she had to work hard to make her voice not shake. It was even better when she had to solve a problem and walk the teacher through it.

Mr. Montgomery poofed out exactly 8.79 seconds after Camry came, which was probably a good thing because he'd decided to try pinching her clitoris when she orgasmed and it had been much shakier than usual, and had involved a very surprised expression.

The second he disappeared, a riot practically broke out. But Drake didn't care. When he saw that their teacher was truly gone, he wiped his hand off on Camry's blazer and proceded to grab her around the waist and pull her into his lap to start making out with her. Finally, when he heard Caine calling his name, he pulled away from her. "Dammit," he said sarcastically. "I was hoping to do it on the table, in front of all these kids."

She sighed but crawled off of him. He patted her rear end. "Go down to the dining hall. Sit at our regular table. I'll find you."

Shouldering her bag, Camry left the classroom and made her way down to the cafeteria. The massive room was far too dramatic to most people. But she liked it. It reminded her of Hogwarts or St. Sophia's School for Girls. If she tried really hard, she could even see it as part of The Hunger Games or Sisters in Sanity. Every once in a while, she imagined that it was from How to Ditch Your Fairy.

As soon as she sat down, Camry fished a worn out paperback from her shoulder bag. It was her current favorite "light read." Dragonlance. She absolutely adored Raistlin. Somehow, he reminded her of Drake. Angry, alone, but somehow, still attractive. Powerful, but using it to help others only grudgingly. Yes, he and Raistlin were very much alike in her mind.

The next thing she knew, people were raising their hands in some sort of vote. "What's going on?" she asked one kid. It was some third or fourth grader. He didn't know her. He didn't know that everyone ignored her.

"Voting for our leader," he said. Then a couple of older kids pulled him away and started whispering to him, all the while glaring at Camry.

Camry raised her hand. "I vote for whoever the majority is voting for," she announced. "Because I don't really care. Oh, is it Caine? I like him, he's a sociopath. He'll be really good at his job. Like…like David in The Enemy."

"Shut up!" someone behind her snapped. She felt a textbook slam against her shoulder.

There was a sharp cry of pain from the boy behind her and she spun to see him on the ground, his lip and nose bleeding profusely. Drake kicked him in the ribs again, hard, and slowly made his way over to her. "You okay?" he asked softly, just loud enough to be heard in the crowd of kids. She nodded and he smirked, satisfied. "Good, I don't like anyone else beating on you. That's my job. Now get up and come with me. We're going to find Caine and Diana."

She slid out of her seat, stuffing the 700 plus page book into her canvas shoulder bag and followed him out of the vast room.

Caine wanted her to drive. She figured it wouldn't be too hard, so long as he didn't put her in an automatic. They freaked her out. Luckily he found a nice car with a manual engine for her to drive. She drove down with Drake in the car beside her, the engine sputtering nervously sometimes, causing the car to rock a bit. She quickly recovered the vehicle by pushing down on the clutch. Still, their car was the last in the procession.

She figured that was probably a good thing.

As they pulled into the town, she said, "I hope they have a library."

Drake just snorted. "Shut up, you fucking nerd."

She shrugged. "I was just thinking out loud."

"Well think quietly instead. You're annoying the hell out of me." He flipped on the stereo and snorted. "What's this crap?"

At the exact same time, Camry cried, "Oh I love this song!" and began to sing along. She was pretty average, and her voice just couldn't hit the same pitches that the boy band could, but all the same it was amusing to Drake to watch her bob her head and try to keep up with something that seemed to be repeating the words, "I want, I want, I want-but that's crazy! I want, I want, I want-and that's not me! I want, I want, I want to be loved by you!"

Finally, though, her antics grew tiresome and he pinched her, hard. "Shut up," he groaned. "You're annoying again."

Camry just laughed at him.

Finally, they reached the edges of Perdido Beach. "Park there," Drake said, pointing to a spot just behind Caine. He got out of the car and she followed obediently. "Wait here," he told her as Caine's group headed into the church. He turned and pointed to the car. "Sit," he ordered. She sat on the hood of the car. "Stay. Don't move."

Without another word, Drake turned and walked away. He didn't bother looking back to see if she was sitting. He already knew she would be, just as he knew that she'd still be there when he got out again. She'd be perfectly obedient and wait right there, as loyal and willing as a puppy.

Sometimes, in the back of his mind, Drake found that just a little bit unsettling.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! Sorry it took so long. Exams and such. But I'm back now!**

**Drake might have a tiny moment of OOC-ness today, but it's for a good reason. I promise!**

**xoxo**

Camry was having a bad day. Drake could tell from the moment he walked through her door. To start with, she didn't even answer the door when he rang the bell. He'd had to actually _use_ the key she'd given him. Then, when he'd looked for her in all the places that had become habitual in the week they'd lived in Perdido Beach, he hadn't been able to find her.

If those two hadn't been signs in themselves, her state when he finally tracked her down was a blaring neon sign with loud speakers and confetti. She'd been crouched in the corner of the guest bathroom with the lights off, clutching her arms through her red Coates Academy emblazoned sweater. Drake wasn't one for being gentle, and there was definitely nothing tender or delicate about the way he gripped her face and forced her blank gaze up to him. He kept his face straight and blank, ignoring the nervous sickness in his gut which should definitely _not_ exist and waited for her dull, blank, sheep-like eyes to focus on him, and then, after nearly five minutes of him waiting, fill with recognition and vague awareness.

"Drake," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I had a bad day again."

He glared at her suspisciously, but made sure to keep his voice moderately calm. "You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

Camry looked down at her arms. "I don't…I don't think so…I don't remember, really." She frowned, shaking her head distractedly. "Drake? When did you get here?"

Drake sighed in impatience, stomping down hard on his frustration. "I've been here, Camry. We were just talking. Did you hurt yourself?"

"Maybe? I don't-what's going on, Drake? Where are we?"

Drake ignored her, dragging her into a standing position and pulling off her clothes. He didn't have to search long. "DAMMIT!" he yelled, flinging her arms down in rage. Looking at the thin, jagged red lines made by God-knows-what, he quaked with fury, seeing red. His hand flashed out like a whip and he slapped her. If her cheek so much as stung, she took no notice and gave no response.

"I deserve them, Drake," she said, her voice far away. "I deserve them. I should be punished." She looked up, her eyes wild as she whispered reverently. "I killed her, Drake. I killed her and her blood dripped down my skin, washing me in red. I was a Conspirator, I was Brutus and Cassius and all the others." A slow grin spread across her crazed face. "Hurt me now, Mommy. Try to drown me now, Mommy. Put out your cigarettes in my skin now, Mommy. Don't worry, Mommy, I'll be punished. Punish self with rocks from the yard, that's what Camry will do. Punish with rocks and hot grill. Yes, Camry will. Camry will punish real good." She grinned at Drake. "Right, Drakey? Camry will punish real good for Mommy."

"_No._" Drake slapped her again, not that she seemed to take notice. "No. Camry, you stop it!" He shook her and grabbed her wrist, holding it up for her to see. His thumb dug into one of the jagged red lines, causing it to bleed again. "You see this, Camry? You see it? You don't get to do this. You don't get to make yourself bleed. That's _my job._ You can't do this. You're not to do this, got it?"

Camry stared at the blood as if hypnotized. "Punished, punished, Camry should be punished. Blood on her arms-Camry should be punished for killing her mommy. Bad Camry should be punished. Dante will do it, Dante will punish bad Camry."

"SHUT UP!" Drake roared. He pressed his mouth over hers until she went silent and her giggles stopped shaking her thin frame. For a while, she just stood there stonily, allowing Drake to kiss her, but finally, her mouth began to move against his, soft and obedient. She put her hands on his chest and he paused.

"Drake, I'm sorry," she whispered again.

For the second time, Drake saw red. Something in him snapped and he slammed her against the wall, shoving his tongue roughly into her mouth. By the time he'd guided her into the bedroom, she was fully naked and had gotten off both his shirt, belt, and jeans.

Yanking off his boxers, he threw her on the bed and straddled her, slamming into her with no warning. She cried out from the pain, moaned from the pleasure. "You don't get to do that!" he panted. "Not ever. You do not get to hurt yourself. That is my job, and my job alone. No one else touches you. Got it? _Got it?_"

Camry nodded, sobs wracking her body. Drake continued until he came, then pulled out and got up. He collected his clothes from the floor and hallway and put them back on. "Drake, please," Camry begged. "Please. Don't leave yet. Please."

Drake glared at her, still angry. He turned and walked away without a single word.

**So Camry's reason for being at Coates is (possibly) unleashed. Wells. I guess you'll learn more later. Or...not. **

**Whatever.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thought I'd give you Vanilla-Lovers something to read. You're welcome.**

"You just _left her there?" _Diana demanded. "Are you fucking stupid?"

Drake looked up at her lazily. "Pardon?"

She groaned. "You ignorant, idiotic bastard. She needed you. She was begging you to stay, to keep her safe.

"So?" Drake scoffed. "Why does she need _me?_ And more importantly, why should I _care_?"

"You idiot!" Diana cried. "Are you honestly that thick-headed? Oh wait," she snapped. "You're Drake, you're a fucking psychopath. Yeah, you actually _are_ that stupid."

Glaring, he stood up and faced her. With a flick of his hand, Caine heaved them apart. "You're both acting like morons," he told them in a bored voice. "Diana, he clearly doesn't understand what you're trying to say. Even I don't understand what you're trying to say. Drake, she has a point. If you want to keep Camry under your thumb, you need her to actually want to be in your presence."

"Oh trust me," Drake said, grinning his classic shark's-grin. "She wants to be with me _plenty._"

"Really? Have you even seen her since that day?" Diana asked.

"Well, no, but-" Drake started.

"She could be dead by now, Drake! She could be with another guy! She's probably moved on, or worse, since there was no one there to take care of her when she needed it, she's probably _killed herself._"

Whether it was from the implication that his plaything could have done further damage to herself or that she may have found another lover that set him off, Caine didn't know. But Drake's jaw twitched, and without even bothering to argue with Diana, he stood up and walked out stiffly, not even bothering to slam the door behind him. That lack of door slamming, which he always did to annoy Caine, was what tipped the dark-haired mayor off that Drake might _actually _be worried. Caine smirked knowingly to Diana, but she shunned him with a flip of her hair and an annoyed eye roll.

Drake rang Camry's doorbell several times without pause, simply jamming his finger against it repetitively. The door opened quickly enough, but not fast enough for him. Camry peeked out, looking disheveled and nervous. Her lanky hair hung limp around her ears and she was gnawing on her lower lip. She gripped the door in her fingertips, poking her head around it anxiously.

Drake stepped in quietly, cupping his hand around the back of her head and pulling her lips to his. Her body tensed and she froze like a statue, but she still obediently moved her lips against his, after the initial surprise. In a shockingly gentle gesture, Drake lifted his other hand and placed it on her cheek. He didn't knot his fingers in her hair or savagely bite her lip. He just kissed her, gently and sweetly.

To say that Camry was stunned was an understatement. Still, despite her worry that Caine might have thrown Drake against a wall one too many times, or that her boyfriend had finally cracked, Camry found herself kissing him back with the same tenderness and affection.

_And since when did she call him her boyfriend?_

Camry pulled away quite suddenly. The fingers of her left hand came up to his shirt and tugged at it. "Bedroom," she whispered.

Drake nodded, guiding her there while still kissing her. Camry's head spun, but not from the kissing itself. What was Drake _doing_? He was kissing her like…like a normal boy would kiss a girlfriend. But she was not a girlfriend, and he was not a normal boy. Even the way that he undressed the both of them was abnormal for him. She was used to rough, fast, and hard. Ripped clothes and lots of screaming, not…not him quietly undoing the buttons of their jeans or pulling her shirt over her head sensually. She was used to biting and scratching and clawing. Slapping, knifing, and cursing, not his lips traveling down her neck and nipping lightly at her breasts and ear. Not kissing down her stomach or tiny, playful smirks.

And _whoa._ That was _definitely_ not something she was used to. Being shoved to her knees and told to suck-that, she was used to. But the situation had never actually been _reversed._ There had been a knife, fingers, and on one particularly curious occasion, on Drake's part, an ice cube _inside_, but never, never, _never_ his _tongue. _Camry moaned, gripping the sheets tightly in her hands. Her head thrashed and for the first time, Camry didn't _scream_ Drake's name, she _sang_ it. Waves of painless pleasure ran through her. Was this what _normal_ people did all the time? It almost made her wish she was one of them.

She came more quickly than she expected. Drake often withheld her orgasms, and on top of that, they took longer to build during their normal sex. She supposed it probably just seemed longer, because there was hardly ever any foreplay.

Drake crawled back up her body, still smirking. She expected him to shove her down below the covers to return the favor, but instead he kissed her, and the fact that she could taste herself on his tongue made her almost come again just from the sheer surprise and ecstasy of the moment.

Drake's lips traveled back to her neck, and then once again to her breasts. He looked up at her as he whispered, _"God, you're beautiful."_ Camry froze, surprised, but Drake distracted her by kissing her again.

He didn't just slam into her, that time. He took it slowly, a little at a time, until she'd adjusted to his size. Not that he was all that big. In fact, though if he'd measured his length he hadn't told her, and she had never asked to, she would have guessed he was about seven inches long, but on the thinner side. She'd already thought his size absolutely perfect, but it wasn't until he'd buried himself to the hilt in her that she realized how perfectly they seemed to fit together.

No wonder she always let him in. Jeez, the sex was great.

But that was really all this was, wasn't it? Sex. She didn't mind, not at all. She wasn't looking for anything _more_ than sex. And so when he started to thrust in and out of her, still gently, she automatically moved her hips with him, and lost herself in the pleasure. After the second orgasm, her hands moved from his hair to scrabbling weakly at his back. After the third, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and her hands didn't know where to go.

"Say that you love me," he whispered. "Promise me that you won't leave and find someone else, or replace me."

"I-I love you," she cried out.

"Promise me," he repeated.

"I promise," she said.

He finally shot his load into her. They both yelled from the pleasure.

When he pulled out, she panted, "So, I'm beautiful now? And what the hell was this?"

"This was an experiment in a new style," he said. "I think I kind of like it, though it's not as good as a regular fuck. And as for what I said…I lied," he told her.

She nodded, not responding as he put his clothes on and left. That was fine with her. She knew she wasn't beautiful, never pretended she didn't. She didn't really care about beauty. Just sex. And the truth was, when she'd said that she loved him…she had lied too.

**That's about as Vanilla as I can get. Acceptable? **


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi guys! Sorry about the delay, I've been caught up in school. But I'm back! Hiiii!**

By the time Camry realized anything was wrong, the damage had already been done.

The whole day had actually passed quite peacefully. Her house was stockpiled with books she'd scavenged from the whole neighborhood. After all, it wasn't like the kids who lived in Bully Row, where Drake had demanded she keep residence, were actually going to _read._ The books she'd collected ranged from World War II history books to basic readers to bathroom summary books to cheesy romance novels that made her gag. In one particular house, she'd found a legitimate hatbox, stocked-piled with steamy S&M erotica that she shared ideas from with Drake. In another, she'd found a selection of lemon-heavy yaoi mangas and a long row of teen novels. Her favorite house, though, was the one she lived in.

It was, by far, the smallest house on the block. Situated across the street and one to the left of Drake's house, her humble abode was a slightly discolored wet-cardboard brown, with flecks of other colors from earlier paint jobs revealed by the peeling, weathered paint. The porch sagged heavily in one corner, held up only by a stack of cement blocks beneath the house. The structure seemed altogether a bit worse for wear, though not entirely unstable. A few loose shingles and some rusty bolts had not been enough to chase Camry away from the little two bedroom house. The inside of the house was very well tended. The old wooden floors were scrubbed and clean, the walls were nice earthy tones, and the electricity and plumbing worked excellently. Immediately upon walking in the door, there was an iron coat rack and the right side of the door opened into a nice little sitting room. The chocolate colored sofa was covered with well padded pillows and draped with a pretty throw blanet, and the overstuffed armchair was plush and comfortable. There was a small television with a stack of movies in the cabinet below it and the coffee table had plenty of coasters and no watermarks.

The room to the left was a pleasant dining room with a four-person table and a large china cabinet. Further on was a sunny kitchen that had a door to the laundry room, and the pantry was well stocked. There was a guest bathroom that was clean and freshly scrubbed, as well as a bedroom that seemed to serve as both a guest room and a play room. To the back of the house, through the living room, was an office and the master bedroom and bathroom. The spacious office had only a desk with a large computer, a few book shelves, and a dog bed, though no dog had appeared at the door asking to be let in. A door from the nondescript master bedroom let out into a small, well tended backyard that had both herbs and vegetables, but very few decorative flowers. It was a particularly ordinary house for a largely ordinary girl.

The one special thing about the house was the _books._ There were dozens upon dozens of books on shelves stacked in every room of the house. Camry had tried to count them and had gotten as far as 236 before Drake came knocking and she lost her place, but she hadn't been nearly done. There had been only one empty bookshelf in the entire house, and there had been a box of books next to it, implying that the intention hadn't been to _leave_ it empty. Camry had taken the initiative to stack the books alphabetically by author, which seemed to be the homeowner's organization, and then to continue adding to the library by stacking in all the other books on the street.

And so it was the Camry had spent a perfectly ordinary day reading yet another book from one of the home's marvelous shelves, tucked up in the armchair with a cup of tea, as there was no coffee in the kitchen, and a plate of ginger snaps she'd found in a jar near the stove, without a single visitor. This in itself was not peculiar, seeing as her only visitor was Drake and if he was on duty, he'd be coming at night, most likely. So Camry passed the day with a few books as her companions, and when it came to be supper time, she fixed herself a salad from some of the vegetables in the garden, resolving to weed it the next day. With still no sign from Drake, she lit the water heater and took her shower.

When Drake hadn't shown up by eight o'clock, she put on a movie and resolved to wait until it was finished. At ten, she turned off the television and went to bed. The next morning, when she found out that Drake and the others were gone, she didn't bother with getting upset. She realized, quite honestly, that it would be in her best interests to simply tuck herself inside her house and leave the conflict to people who cared. Drake, she had come to understand, was like Peter, whereas she was Wendy. _He_ was the one having adventures, not her. Then again, Wendy had been a part of some of Peter's best adventures, so perhaps they were like the Peter and Wendy of the Starcatchers series, rather than the J.M. Barrie novel. But the Wendy of those books also had adventures with Peter. Camry thought it over, but despite all the books she'd read, she couldn't think of a single _perfect_ comparison to her arrangement with Drake. In all the books, even if the man was always leaving, he was leaving behind the woman he _loved_, not the girl he fucked. Or if he was leaving behind someone who was just a sexual partner, then he fell in love with her later, and, and Camry was absolutely sure of this, Drake was not actually _capable _of love. He was a good _lover_, but he could not _love her. _Not that she'd ever ask him to.

The thought of not knowing a literary reference distressed her so much, though, that she set aside her current book; a quite thrilling novel called _The Name of the Wind_, and did all of the gardening in one fast sweep. She weeded the garden beds, swept the patio out back, and trimmed the hedges. During all of this, she remained completely unaware of the conflict that was about to begin just outside her house.

When the gunshots finally broke the tense morning quiet, Camry was, at least at first, slow to notice. But finally it occurred to her that the shots could not be in her imagination because no one was using a gun in the book. That was when she perked up enough to poke her head out of her door. Outside, complete chaos reigned. Children were running and screaming. Guns were being fired. And in the midst of it all, her eyes finally fell on him, the one she'd been looking for.

Drake was surrounded by a pack of mangy coyotes, which, she would later think, was actually kind of funny, considering how much he hated animals. But the worst part was the rather grotesque whip in place of his right arm. His eyes met hers and he looked down at his pack. "Go," he told them. She read it on his lips, and then he was stalking toward her, crossing the hundred yards or so between them while she stood stock still, staring. "Well?" he snarked. "Going to invite me in or what, bitch?"

Maybe Camry was just still trapped in the world of her book. In fact, later on she was quite sure she must have been, because she stepped toward him, clutched the edge of his shirt and whispered, "I didn't know you needed an invitation." Then her mouth was on his throat and he was backing her into the house, ripping her shirt as he moved. She yanked harshly at his shirt, hauling it over his head and dropping it to the floor as he kicked the door shut. Camry knotted her fingers into his hair and pulled him backward toward the door to her bedroom. Tripping through the office, she guided him into her room and spun him around, letting go of him only to softly click the door shut and lock it. Throughout the house they'd lost the rest of her clothing, her bra puddled on the office floor like a declaration of war. She pressed her back to the door and smirked playfully at him. "Well?" she asked.

With a feral growl he tugged her forward, her body smacking into his with a loud slap. He was dirty from the fighting, but she didn't care. She dragged him to the bed and they tumbled onto it. Without Drake needing to guide her, she wriggled down between his legs. Flashing one last sultry smirk up at him, she opened her mouth and proceeded to wrap it firmly around his cock.

Drake grunted and thrust forward into her mouth. She grinned at him, humming with appreciation. Drake's eyes closed halfway and he groaned, drowning in a sea of pleasure. Camry shivered with delight, looking at her sex-hazed lover. Always so in control, despite his falsities of pretending to be a subordinate. He was…he was Merlin, he was Will Henry, he was every character that had ever been forced into a submissive position despite their ability to lead. He was the very embodiment of control, most days. So seeing him lose himself completely to her body was…impressive, to say in the least.

Camry gripped his hips and held him steady when he came. It was maybe the second time in the whole time they'd been sleeping together that he'd actually lost control like that, since he'd given himself over to her so completely. And it wasn't until he spoke, lying there dazed and exhausted, that she understood why. "I'm leaving," he told her.

"You're what?" Her voice sounded dumb and surprised to her own ears, though most of it could be attributed to the breathlessness after pleasuring her partner.

"I'm leaving. Caine's losing this battle. I won't pretend that he isn't, not with you. He's going to make a run back to Coates, I promise you. And I'm his second, so of course-"

"You go with him." Camry nodded, understanding. "Yes. Of course. Makes sense. Then again, King Endon never went anywhere without his advisor Prandine and he was thrown out of the castle and Deltora became part of the Shadow Lands."

"Do you ever stop referencing books?" Drake asked, incredulous.

Camry thought about it. "No. No, not really." She swung her legs over the bed and stood up in what had to be one of the most graceful moves she'd ever accomplished. Feeling a little like Sin must have when she danced at the Goblin Markets, she walked over to the closet that had come to contain the clothes she'd brought to Perdido Beach. "So are we coming back anytime soon or should I just pack what's important now?" she called over her shoulder, opening the closet door.

Drake put a hand on the door and it swung shut with a soft click. She flicked her gaze up to look at him. He didn't look sad. He didn't look angry. His slate colored eyes were flat and blank as the stones they seemed modeled after, as uncaring and unyielding as a mountain. "You don't need to pack anything. You're not coming."

Camry glared at him, indignant. "Well of course I am. If you're leaving-"

He put a hand over her mouth and nose, halting any attempts at speech. When she shut her mouth, he pulled his hand away, looking mildly irritated. "You're. Not. Coming." His words were sharp and distinct. "I don't want you there."

For the first time since ripping his shirt off, Camry touched his whip arm. He recoiled backward, glaring at her. "Is this why?" she asked. "Or do you just want me to be the Max to your Fang and wait for twenty years while you have an adventure?"

He pulled away from her sharply. "Neither. I don't want you to come because I'm done with you. I don't want you there. I don't want to be with you. I don't want to have sex with you. I'm leaving and you're staying and that's final. And if I see you at Coates, I'll kill you." He turned around, gathering his clothes as he left.

Camry stayed where she was until he was gone. When the front door had opened and shut and her house was quiet, she nodded to herself. "Definitely Nick Reeves." She calmly got redressed, put water into the kettle for tea, and sat back down with her book. Outside, chaos still reigned. Inside, there was only peace, quiet, and finally, the whistle of a boiling kettle.


End file.
